Haymitch the Horrible
by Howlynn
Summary: Haymitch and other victors at the 73rd Games - These deadly friends of mine.  It was just a joke that we played on Finnick Odair, but now I watch him fight for his life, it wasn't so funny.  Victors relationship Note M rating for language and subjects.


**Haymitch the Horrible**

**One shot or maybe two –character study - turn a hero into a villain or a villain into a hero challenge. Violence, Sexual content, non- consent, torture. murder and language. Rated M for mature audiences.**

**I Disclaimer:All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**For my assignment I want to show a really mean Haymitch while trying to not twist him to far OOC. And heroes and villains are interpretive. Many people detest Haymitch Abernathy – I think he is the key character catalyst of the series…the old king – the wizard – the advisor. What would the books be without him? Here is one more version of He who must be noticed.**

**This is Pre- 74th game - during the 73rd game -just a year before Haymitch fell from the reaping stage. A less than good-natured bunch, these mentors. These deadly friends.**

I don't know what I was thinking. It was just a joke gone wrong I suppose, but it shouldn't have happened. I am usually smarter, if not kinder. Life isn't rainbows and true love, but what have we become, that none of us could stop what we did to poor Finnick Odair.

I sit next to him as he fights for life, or perhaps against it, and I know I am to blame. It was just a joke. Forgiveness is not deserved, but I don't want him to die. I don't love him enough to finish him once and for all. I am too selfish to live without him in this bleak world of deadly friends.

I will have to pay for the time I spend here, watching him, begging the universe to give me another chance to protect him. Begging the person who has been more than a best friend to me, not to punish me by dieing young. How do I explain to his sweet Annie that it was just meant to be funny? How would I face her, if Finnick dies and nobody is there to stop her from being called into service? He would haunt me for that, with hatred well beyond any of those who trouble me now.

We mentors are a broken mash of sadistic trash. It is survival for us. We laugh at things that have no humor. We smile with no joy. We find things that allow us to continue our beak existences, praying each day for death, wishing for an end that evades us, losing our ability to judge right from wrong. We cling to each other, our only hope for any sort of family in each other's lives. We fight like demons, and there is no season that one of us, doesn't have to have some minor repair, to cover the antics that go on in the mentors 'war room'.

We can care for each other, with proviso that we keep it cool on the surface. They don't use us against each other often. Finnick and Annie are a glaring exception of course. Broken, little Annie Cresta, the champion who lost her mind and won the heart of the heartthrob in the process, is Odair's Achilles heel. He may be mine.

We dream of rebellion, but we are just hot air. None of us believe any longer, least of all this drunken bastard of an instigator. Haymitch Abernathy the winner of the Quell, the older, more broken Finn. Still Kicking, damned right. Still so full of shit that I ought to be shot in the head, just on principle. Still leading a fool's quest, with a bottle for my sword. Still daring them to actually shoot me in the head and wishing they just would. Maybe it will be this year that the bottle finally leads me. Maybe I am already gone.

I am not attracted to men. Of course that choice was stolen from me, just one puzzle piece of my entire life that was sacrificed for the capital cause. They took every person I loved to persuade me. I thought momentarily that I had won. I would not bow to them and there was nothing left they could do to me. It took my own mentors tears, for me to see, that family extended endlessly. My submission was a small price, to have no more deaths upon my head.

My tributes were all being selected from my childhood playmates, my parents friends children. They marched to the stage of death, having no chance of life, until I said yes. Abernathys I had no blood relation to, became extinct in district twelve. My own mentor's children, three years in a row. Down to his last child, I had to say yes. You can't understand the mix of love and hate we mentors feel for each other. The two little girlfriends I managed to trick into my claws, died within a week of our fumbling encounters. I was not allowed to have any physical relationship if I did not submit to the demands of the capital.

My first time, was with a man. I had no imagination to even comprehend the subject. I was taken, that innocent, and brutalized until I didn't care anymore. Until. They couldn't make me scream any more. There were women too, some who desired kindness, many who gave me a little gentleness, but most of them I hated with every smirk. I never learned to enjoy the acts they required. But, I learned to like them. I learned to smile with such malice, and speak such venom that my own hushed legend, rivals Finnick's more flamboyant one. If you know who to ask, I am bound to come up. I became something of a specialty request.

I lead a celibate life the rest of the time. Too broken to be loved and too afraid to chance it. They still used me as the example each year. Detailing to the new ranks all they have done to me and I know they tell them what I specialize in. It is strange to see the change as they go from wide-eyed tribute to conceited victor to prey. At that stage they will treat me differently. They can't hide they fear me, hate me or they simply will not meet my evil eyes. Then I do the things for them that nobody else has the stomach for, and they become my family.

Finnick Odair doesn't have a cowardly bone in his body. I watched him in his games. Mags and I knew this was going to be trouble for him. He was fourteen goddamned years old and he was already pawned out, paid for in advance, and fated to this hell before he had even made it to the top half of his games. I have heard that his first year alone brought in enough revenue to pay for the next six arenas in full.

He wasn't such a cocky little turd-magnet when they told him. He refused. We all do in the beginning, thinking we can't live and call ourselves whores. But, Finnick was quickly convinced. It only took his parents death to persuade him. He is a better man than I.

Mags was too horrified to explain the real story to this boy she loved. How could she, having changed his diapers, being his granny Odairs best friend? Mags had taken her place in a long ago reaping. She had saved his grandmother from death and from the winners' fate. She had given the Odairs the gift of innocently living lives unsullied with a victor. That is, until that stupid little shit volin-fucking-teered.

She cried for my mercy, that I clarify his future. She could not live the burden of explaining that there would be more things expected, than he flitting around, sampling capital girls of his choice. Mags reminded me of how my own mentor had basically left me for the wolves. She beseeched me to mentor the boy. I laughed at her. I reminded her that I was probably the last person in the entire capital that she should consider for this terrible deed.

Silly old toothess grin on her face, less than five foot tall, she patted my arm and whispered. "Nobody but you would have the balls and brains to out smart him Haymitch. That boy will eat the others alive. Please, son. It has to be you."

Even those who demand and pay for my talents fear me. They should. That little idiot came to me without that emotion on his face. He came to me laughing, at the absurdity, that he had no idea that men were on the menu. There was never a moment of brutality between us in that way. I could never be in love with a man, but I truly love Finnick. It has been years since the boy has found his way to my bed. Years since I breathed the pleasure of him. But on occasion, I knew. My feelings for him are returned, yet we don't blather about the fact. Now you understand why my betrayal of him makes me such a heartless monster. Snow will be pleased that I am finally his. He told me once he would live to see me become a human Mutt. Maybe he has.

It was just meant as a joke, I swear on any tarnished rusted scrap of soul they have not yet destroyed. Any bit of the Haymitch Abernathy that existed from before the day I was reaped must have finally skulked away in shame. Dear Finnick who tastes of the sea and rocks the waves of me. Will I have to live with his last words?

My tributes were dead and I am thankfully working my way through a bottle. The games breaks were full of the sensational scandal of the week. I giggled madly at Finnick's expense. Others echoed my laughter. Finnick still had a tribute alive at the moment, but tiny Mags watched over the boy, her eyes bright. Her eyes slid to me and I smirk a little, staggered at the cold deadly eyes that meet me from her wise elderly face. My headset beeps. I am astonished, beings I finished out for the year. This call came in on my secure number.

"Abernathy twelve, how may I be of assistance." My standard semi-sober greeting, having been reprimanded for "Fuck off, they are dead you dumb shitball" two years ago.

"Hello Hot Rocks."

"How are they hanging, Sweetheart" I reply dropping my voice into a seductive purr, or at least the closest thing I still had to one. I couldn't tell if he was going to laugh, threaten me or let me know that he had arranged payback, but I smiled at the sound of his voice. Calling me that old pet name I will take to my grave before explaining sounds like a good sign. Our first-rate battle must be kicking into the next gear, and I can't wait to see what he throws.

"In my favor, chum, in my favor." Finnick says with a laugh. His voice changes, no longer seductive and dripping charm, it is the dry sound of torture. "They got the news, clear down in four. Annie tried to kill herself yesterday. I can't even get through to find out…"His voice breaks. "if she succeeded."

My heart drops. "No. Finn, I am so sorry. It was just…" I am shaking in need of a drink so badly I can barely speak. I squeeze the words out of my throat, my lips not wanting to even make the sounds. "A joke Finn. Not meant to go so far. I am so sorry…I will see what I can find out…."

He interrupts me, steady and toxically solemn. "Don't bother with it. Just called to say thanks for everything. Funny, all the people I ever loved or trusted, and it was you, handing me a free pass. Just like my games. Remember? She smiled and said she was sorry as she killed me, just like you. Sitting here, watching all of them talking about me, and the only person worth saying goodbye to, is you." His voice is soft, sweet, not angry or full of rage as it should be.

"Where are you Finn? Anything you want, I will make it up to you, sweetheart. Just tell me where you are and I am on my way." I say in my most commanding stern voice. I know exactly what he means by free pass.

His allie had pretended to be hurt badly. As Finn knelt over her in tears, she had driven a knife into his heart. He had looked down at it. She had said sorry. The boy stood up and finished her with his pretty golden trident. The only thing that saved him was that he had not pulled the knife out. He'd just sat down next to her and looked down at it like he had always had the handle of a knife protruding from his chest.

"That information would really mess up my happy place, Hot Rocks. Seems one of us can fucking keep a secret. But I am going to let you make it up to me, Sugar. Little gift, for all your kindness and friendship. You are going to be the one to find me. You're going to get a voice-mail in a while by courier. Just sit your ass there and drink. No rush. I don't want to be unviewable for the funeral. It will take days to find me if I don't have someone, so congratulations on your selection." He is rattling off this information as if it could be doing anything to me but tearing my heart out. He's making me feel like a dammed tribute and he knows it. Wanting to break my heart, the vengeful little bitch.

"Finnick Goddamed you. Don't do this. Where are you! Please." I realize I am panicking and I look around and see Mags glaring at me and her legs are just touching the floor as she reaches for her cane. She had had a stroke right over there a few years ago. This was to be her last year, what would she do? It would kill her, she'd never see his body.

"Calm down Hot Rocks. Nothing you can do. It is out if your hands. The gift is in my hands so come alone, like I ask of you, and make sure they take me back to four. I have left instructions." He calmly addresses me in his firm ships captain voice, expecting his directives to be carried out with an 'Aye Finn' and a smile.

My voice cracks like a baby. "I won't do it. You can rot there forever you little wimpy whore. What makes you think I give a damned, if you stink the place up or don't?" I try to sound like such a shit friend that he will have to rethink his plan.

"Come or don't come, Hot Rocks. Never made any difference to me one way or another. Fuck you, either way"

I take a deep breath to lay into him, hoping to fish him out of these waters with any foolhardy promise in the universe, when the line goes dead. "No Finn. No Finn. Finnick Odair you son of a….." This is the year I throw up all over the control booth, shorting out the whole system. I smirk and shrug to everyone. There are laughs and curses.

My mind rolls like waves; sorrow, hopelessness, terror, love, regret, his eyes looking up at me, lost in trust, as I tried to turn misery into pleasure for him. The way he sobbed against me after they had hurt him the first time. The things I had done to make sure he found his place among us. He really hadn't had a chance, too pretty, too young and a career to boot, he should have crumpled under that sensitive silly hope of his. Instead he had thrived. He'd been more realistic than the rest of us and in fact pretended that all was well. His façade, so perfect we even forgot, seemed as mythical as Camelot.

We all have euphemisms for our appointments. I call the damned things dance cards. Every damned night, after our public duties were over, we were expected to perform. Styled and primped, we made our way around to parties, clubs and private sessions involving nearly anything save romance.

Johanna liked to refuse to bathe, her perfume never quite covering up the stench of old sex and cigarettes. I too used the ploy, appearing as unfashionable and fall down drunk as humanly possible. Enobaria hacked her hair and sharpened her teeth, keeping those who used her wary and off balance. Chaff refused to wear his prosthesis except the ones they had specially made for his dates. He'd shown me the sick toys they developed for his client's pleasure. He bragged about how he was not a whore, just a walking talking dildo.

Finnick found the way to hurt them the most. He made them love him then broke their hearts like pretty porcelain. He pretended hunger for our arrangements, the perfect capital snow job. He wore less every year and lately, because he'd been trying to kill his heart, to do these things while Annie pined for him by the sea, Finnick had become a little much for any of us to take.

His drug use was off the charts and he rarely slept at all. His ego had inflated until even those who adored him, felt he could use a little bump in his crotch that didn't lead to his wielding it upon the smutty channels. Finnick had eclipsed us all combined in wealth long ago, though frankly I secretly give him a race, thanks to my extra years at the auction. It was nothing for him to service ten appointments then drag something pretty home just for fun, almost flipping his nose at us all.

This had always been a place of discretion, which allowed us some small measure of dignity. Finn had made such a public spectacle that it was obvious; we were all following his lifestyle to some degree. He had become, no longer the innocent playboy, but instead a disgraceful loud trumpet of all of our shame. Then it was discovered that he had a little bit of an advantage. He was not only keeping his own appointments but he picked through ours. Personally, I felt like thanking him. Some of them were not as pleased, after all we did gain tips and power from our efforts. Who we made regular clients, affected who would sponsor our tributes, who we could call on for assistance and who would show our district sympathy. Never discount the affection we cultivated among the powerful.

It was Beedee who figured it out. Beedee who was such an odd bob, that he'd only been on a few appointments in all his years. Snow didn't bother with him much, and he didn't seem to have the limited boundaries the rest of us dealt with. We were all drinking when this info came out about Finn. He seemed to be on some VIP roll. We could not help but worry that maybe he was positioning himself to become the new President. He was awfully close to a great deal of power, and we started realizing that he could be the fly in the soup that mucks up our whole hope of change. Even I was a bit concerned because it had been a while since he considered me within his confidant circle.

Chaff and I, the two drunken old bulls, decided the young bull needed a little steering. So with Beedees help, we began to mess with his dance cards. We took one appointment of a clean popular nature and traded it for five, grunt runs with old fat wives of has-beens and never weres. We shattered his dance cards and over booked Finn to the level, that by the third day of training, he looked harried, sick and honestly, there was a rather noticeable hitch in his get up and go.

If we had come clean and ended it there, it would have been funny. I was enjoying a game for the first time in my life despite the certain knowledge that my poor little ones didn't have a chance in the world. Of course, I had never brought one home, and it was not an accident, if I am honest. I loved each and every one of them too much make victors of them and I didn't want to have to mentor any child of a classmate in the things that would occur if they did win.

I was old enough now that I had watched them born and grow into the games and I better understood poor Mags panic with Finn. It was bad enough that that damned Finnick had not relieved me of this terrible duty. I had mentored Johanna, wild eyed terrified little thing, she was, as I stole yet another virgin from Snow's cronies who liked to bid on the hope that they would be rewarded with untouched meat.

That's ok. Haymitch will help you. Haymitch is drunken bastard enough not to be broken hearted for you, but stupid enough to always be kind. God I hated them, for exposing me like a plucked pheasant, but not able to imagine that I had heart enough to love. The drinking helped me hide that it tore my soul, to send them into battle after my pathetic victor training camp.

No, the knowledge of winning being loss, made me not have much heart for ramping up hope or playing hard enough to make tributes into victors in district twelve. I was a horrible mentor in the eyes of my home people. They detested me for never bringing any home alive, and I let them, for never asking why. I gave them the basics and had fallen to my own mentor's words.

He'd told me "Stay alive if you're a coward, or die the first day bravely, before you loose your soul to it. Die alive, and keep your soul safe for heaven." I remember the fear that little gem of truth had inspired in the four of us that first night. I remembered hating him for saying it, though I proved it to be truth. I had censored it over the years to my barely mumbled two-word epiphany.

Stay alive. It didn't mean win, dear little children. I meant don't kill everything you are to keep breathing. Breathing is over rated. I am a perfect example. I died twenty-three years ago and I am still in the delight of that torture. I had not stayed alive. Death could offer me no true solace now. Someday, perhaps, I would run across my soul again. Maybe when I suffer enough. Maybe when I save someone that matters.

As I stood in that control room watching Mags make her way to me and knowing I would have to tell her I had murdered her Finn, I turn and run to save that gentle old soul. Maybe I just run before she slits my stupid throat while he may still live. I try to slip my brain into calculating, where he would go to carry out his plan. I have one shot, that I might be able to find him still breathing.

He wasn't going to do it in public that much was clear, or he wouldn't need me to discover him. So private. Fin had six townhouses, three standing hotel rooms and two apartments that I knew of. It couldn't be the hotel rooms, because the services would find him and the cameras would record him, making Snow so mad he would not finish with district four until the next great flood.

So private. But which one. He had spoken freely, plainly, open about his intent and he kept saying gift. He was leaving me something that he wanted only me to have. I was the only one worth saying goodbye to? It had to be tied. I called Beetee on his secured line from the mentors lobby.

"It's Haymitch. I need to know if you have seen Finn lately?"

"Sure, yesterday at his place on the square, he made me lunch." Beetee responded with care.

"You just earned my eternal worship screwball." I said holding back tears. Beetee had swept Finn's old snooty-neighborhood apartment. It had been his pride and joy when he'd first rented it. It was one of those places we had been close. I am not a praying man, I don't deserve any answers, but as I jogged that way, each labored breath was a prayer for him.

I entered the lobby. They smiled. "Ah Mr. Abernathy, he wasn't expecting you for almost an hour."

"I know but doing some emergency damage control. Don't need to buzz him I have my key." I say with a smile as calm as I can make it. "Stay by your post, I may have orders for you."

"Is there a problem with Mr. Finn?" He asks softly.

"Hope not. Just some tribute business." I say off handedly.

I take the elevator. I don't ever cry. The exception to that rule, it seems, is when I am expecting to see fucking Finnick Odair die in my arms or be gone already. I have never ridden such a sedate, infernally slow elevator in my life. I search my pocket, terror filling me for a moment that I can not lay my hand on the keycard. I open the door to the empty apartment and hear a sob. The voice cries his name, because it is my own. My pulse in my ears made the sound of my frantic calls distort and warp. I race through the rooms.

The vision of him, nearly drops me as I come to the master bedroom. His face is perfect under the recreational inhalant mask. His body shudders, dieing before me as I slung the mask from him. His eyes are open and empty, green barely visible in his dilated eyes. I listened to his heart, which no longer sounds like a beat. It is ending. I lift him to me and pinch his nose, as he once showed me. I breathe into him several times, but I know the signs of death. I lift the receiver unwilling to let him rest on the bed and rub his back vigorously as I wait for them to answer. I see the two envelopes in his cold hands and I stuff them inside my own clothing. I can't let him be accused of suicide.

"May we assist you Mr. Odair?"

"It's Abernathy, I need emergency victor services. Mr. Odair has had an accident and please be sure they know it is a Hush roll, no media. Snow will advise."

I keep my eyes on his face. He is breathing shallowly and his pale color is slightly improving. The dead eyes and slack mouth pierce me the most. I try not to fall apart as I wait. I say things to him I probably don't mean, but want him to be mad enough to come back and throttle me.

My next call is to Snow himself. They give me six kinds of hell before he ever gets on the phone. Normally I address him properly, but I do have some leeway in some instances. The few times I press this advantage, he knows to pay attention. "Lanus it's Haymitch."

"To what do I owe this pleasure dear Abernathy." He says and I know he finds no pleasure in hearing from me.

"Lanus, I knew I needed to call you myself. It's Finn. His Goddamned rec-mask has malfunctioned and he's, unresponsive. I called services, told them you would advise." I waited for him to respond as I kicked the recreational drug device making certain it looked malfunctioned.

The voice is deadly cold. "Is it a suicide Haymitch? Did that boy…."

"Don't be silly Lanus Snow. I have known of you and his mutual admiration for some time. He treasures you. I would imagine that if he were in that frame of mind, you would have known before any of us. Unless there is some falling out I am unaware of, and if I overstep then I do apologize, but if I do make mistake, it is out of the boys misplaced affection, not any form of disrespect."

I am a liar who is going to go straight to hell some day but the only hope Finn has is for Snow to be on board to protect him. I kick the contraption over for good measure. I can smell the stench of the inhalants from here and he's mixed up some combo that smells too familiarly like roses.

"You have not displeased me Haymitch. Look carefully for notes, I don't want to loose him, even if he has committed a crime. I am going to put a stop to all this damned media storm too. May I count on you to back me up for his sake?"

"I understand and, of course. Say anything you need to about me Lanus. Victor horseplay and all my fault."

"I will meet you at the hospital. So sorry about your tributes Haymitch, maybe next year?"

"Maybe. Thank You President Snow."

He gurgles a laugh, "Not at all. Keep him alive."

"Bastard what the hell do you think I am doing." I say to nothing.

The services zip him into a protective bag for concealed transport. It is a little too much like a capital body bag for my vision not to swim at the sight. Down through the private tunnels we descend in the service elevator. The tunnels are clean and private except for the many Avoxes who mill about. We rise up into the sparking endless halls of the hospital and soon I am advised that he is stable.

I have to be there when he wakes. I can't bring myself to say if. I have to make him understand quickly and hope he isn't so barmy, that he screams something stupid.. I feel the two envelops stick to my ribs, soaking with my nervous aching-for-a-drink sweat. I get more furious with him as the hours pass and my demand for my own liquid medication calls so loudly. My head pounded so intensely, I considered going back to his house and squaring his mask on my own face. Serve the fool right if I stunk up the place. Might be half a year before anyone would notice me missing.

Mags stumps in the room. She garbles to me but I know what she has said. She pokes me with her cane and I bend to her and hug her. Her knife is hidden just in her sleeve. I wouldn't fight her if she did it. Mags is everyone's Mom.

"I know. The whole damned thing is my fault. If you had, I would have deserved it, but I was trying to save him first. Have you heard any news of Annie? If we don't tell him that first, nothing will keep him here." I say meaning every sentence.

She grins at me and pats my cheek. I rest my head on her little rounded shoulders and sob for just a moment. This deadly, broken family of mine. I am safe in her arms for a moment, beings she changed her mind about cutting my heart out.

"Hot rocks, I'm gonna get you for this…"I grin and turn to the sweetest face of pure murder I ever met eyes with.

"Yeah well, I love you to sweetheart, but be prepared for a long line."

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_**Ok that's it for the class thing - they liked my villainy….hehehe. He was still kinda the hero- anyway is that good or do you wanna know more about Abernathy? If I get reviews that don't yell at me for making Haymitch a slut - lol - I will write more but for now I am off to research for next assignment - 'Make your base character do something unforgivably dark' - so I looked at them and said - "wait I have Haymitch -what could that possibly be?"**_

_**No sympathy – just vote and that's the one I will write…**_

_** A) Haymitch and Katniss - what they actually said to each other at the end of catching fire -on the hover craft when they said "horrible" things to each other.**_

_**B) Haymitch and Cinna – last conversation just prior to him being beaten to death.**_

_**C) Haymitch goes to the Quell with Katniss (Peeta is the mentor) – what does he have to do, to make her kill him once they are down to the final two?**_


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